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Title: Roughing It

Author: Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens)

Release Date: August 18, 2006 [EBook #3177]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROUGHING IT ***

Produced by David Widger

ROUGHING IT

by Mark Twain

1880

TO CALVIN H. HIGBIE, Of California, an Honest Man, a Genial Comrade, and a Steadfast Friend. THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED By the Author, In Memory of the Curious Time When We Two WERE MILLIONAIRES FOR TEN DAYS.

ROUGHING IT

BY MARK TWAIN. (SAMUEL L. CLEMENS.)

PREFATORY.

This book is merely a personal narrative, and not a pretentious historyor a philosophical dissertation. It is a record of several years ofvariegated vagabondizing, and its object is rather to help the restingreader while away an idle hour than afflict him with metaphysics, or goadhim with science. Still, there is information in the volume; informationconcerning an interesting episode in the history of the Far West, aboutwhich no books have been written by persons who were on the ground inperson, and saw the happenings of the time with their own eyes. I alludeto the rise, growth and culmination of the silver-mining fever in Nevada-a curious episode, in some respects; the only one, of its peculiar kind,that has occurred in the land; and the only one, indeed, that is likelyto occur in it.

Yes, take it all around, there is quite a good deal of information in thebook. I regret this very much; but really it could not be helped:information appears to stew out of me naturally, like the precious ottarof roses out of the otter. Sometimes it has seemed to me that I wouldgive worlds if I could retain my facts; but it cannot be. The more I calkup the sources, and the tighter I get, the more I leak wisdom. Therefore,I can only claim indulgence at the hands of the reader, notjustification.

THE AUTHOR.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.My Brother appointed Secretary of Nevada--I Envy His ProspectiveAdventures--Am Appointed Private Secretary Under Him--My ContentmentComplete--Packed in One Hour--Dreams and Visions--On the Missouri River--A Bully Boat

CHAPTER II.Arrive at St. Joseph--Only Twenty-five Pounds Baggage Allowed--Farewellto Kid Gloves and Dress Coats--Armed to the Teeth--The "Allen"--ACheerful Weapon--Persuaded to Buy a Mule--Schedule of Luxuries--We Leavethe "States"--"Our Coach"--Mails for the Indians--Between a Wink and anEarthquake--A Modern Sphynx and How She Entertained Us--A Sociable Heifer

CHAPTER III."The Thoroughbrace is Broke"--Mails Delivered Properly--Sleeping UnderDifficulties--A Jackass Rabbit Meditating, and on Business--A ModernGulliver--Sage-brush--Overcoats as an Article of Diet--Sad Fate of aCamel--Warning to Experimenters

CHAPTER XXII.The Son of a Nabob--Start for Lake Tahoe--Splendor of the Views--Trip onthe Lake--Camping Out--Reinvigorating Climate--Clearing a Tract of Land--Securing a Title--Outhouse and Fences

CHAPTER XXIII.A Happy Life--Lake Tahoe and its Moods--Transparency of the Waters--ACatastrophe--Fire! Fire!--A Magnificent Spectacle--Homeless Again--Wetake to the Lake--A Storm--Return to Carson

CHAPTER XXIV.Resolve to Buy a Horse--Horsemanship in Carson--A Temptation--AdviceGiven Me Freely--I Buy the Mexican Plug--My First Ride--A Good Bucker--ILoan the Plug--Experience of Borrowers--Attempts to Sell--Expense of theExperiment--A Stranger Taken In

CHAPTER XXV.The Mormons in Nevada--How to Persuade a Loan from Them--Early History ofthe Territory--Silver Mines Discovered--The New Territorial Government--AForeign One and a Poor One--Its Funny Struggles for Existence--No Credit,no Cash--Old Abe Currey Sustains it and its Officers--Instructions andVouchers--An Indian's Endorsement--Toll-Gates

CHAPTER XXXV.A New Travelling Companion--All Full and No Accommodations--How CaptainNye found Room--and Caused Our Leaving to be Lamented--The Uses ofTunnelling--A Notable Example--We Go into the "Claim" Business and Fail--At the Bottom

CHAPTER XLVII.Buck Fanshaw's Death--The Cause Thereof--Preparations for His Burial--Scotty Briggs the Committee Man--He Visits the Minister--Scotty Can'tPlay His Hand--The Minister Gets Mixed--Both Begin to See--"All DownAgain But Nine"--Buck Fanshaw as a Citizen--How To "Shook Your Mother"--The Funeral--Scotty Briggs as a Sunday School Teacher

CHAPTER XLVIII.The First Twenty-Six Graves in Nevada--The Prominent Men of the County--The Man Who Had Killed His Dozen--Trial by Jury--Specimen Jurors--APrivate Grave Yard--The Desperadoes--Who They Killed--Waking up the WearyPassenger--Satisfaction Without Fighting

CHAPTER LIII.Jim Blaine and his Grandfather's Ram--Filkin's Mistake--Old Miss Wagnerand her Glass Eye--Jacobs, the Coffin Dealer--Waiting for a Customer--HisBargain With Old Robbins--Robbins Sues for Damage and Collects--A New Usefor Missionaries--The Effect--His Uncle Lem and the Use Providence Madeof Him--Sad Fate of Wheeler--Devotion of His Wife--A Model Monument--WhatAbout the Ram?

CHAPTER LVI.Off for San Francisco--Western and Eastern Landscapes--The Hottest placeon Earth--Summer and Winter

CHAPTER LVII.California--Novelty of Seeing a Woman--"Well if it ain't a Child!"--OneHundred and Fifty Dollars for a Kiss--Waiting for a turn

CHAPTER LVIII.Life in San Francisco--Worthless Stocks--My First Earthquake--ReportorialInstincts--Effects of the Shocks--Incidents and Curiosities--SabbathBreakers--The Lodger and the Chambermaid--A Sensible Fashion to Follow--Effects of the Earthquake on the Ministers

APPENDIX.A.--Brief Sketch of Mormon HistoryB.--The Mountain Meadows MassacreC.--Concerning a Frightful Assassination that was never Consummated

CHAPTER I.

My brother had just been appointed Secretary of Nevada Territory--anoffice of such majesty that it concentrated in itself the duties anddignities of Treasurer, Comptroller, Secretary of State, and ActingGovernor in the Governor's absence. A salary of eighteen hundred dollarsa year and the title of "Mr. Secretary," gave to the great position anair of wild and imposing grandeur. I was young and ignorant, and Ienvied my brother. I coveted his distinction and his financial splendor,but particularly and especially the long, strange journey he was going tomake, and the curious new world he was going to explore. He was going totravel! I never had been away from home, and that word "travel" had aseductive charm for me. Pretty soon he would be hundreds and hundreds ofmiles away on the great plains and deserts, and among the mountains ofthe Far West, and would see buffaloes and Indians, and prairie dogs, andantelopes, and have all kinds of adventures, and may be get hanged orscalped, and have ever such a fine time, and write home and tell us allabout it, and be a hero. And he would see the gold mines and the silvermines, and maybe go about of an afternoon when his work was done, andpick up two or three pailfuls of shining slugs, and nuggets of gold andsilver on the hillside. And by and by he would become very rich, andreturn home by sea, and be able to talk as calmly about San Francisco andthe ocean, and "the isthmus" as if it was nothing of any consequence tohave seen those marvels face to face. What I suffered in contemplatinghis happiness, pen cannot describe. And so, when he offered me, in coldblood, the sublime position of private secretary under him, it appearedto me that the heavens and the earth passed away, and the firmament wasrolled together as a scroll! I had nothing more to desire. Mycontentment was complete.

At the end of an hour or two I was ready for the journey. Not muchpacking up was necessary, because we were going in the overland stagefrom the Missouri frontier to Nevada, and passengers were only allowed asmall quantity of baggage apiece. There was no Pacific railroad in thosefine times of ten or twelve years ago--not a single rail of it.I only proposed to stay in Nevada three months--I had no thought ofstaying longer than that. I meant to see all I could that was new andstrange, and then hurry home to business. I little thought that I wouldnot see the end of that three-month pleasure excursion for six or sevenuncommonly long years!

I dreamed all night about Indians, deserts, and silver bars, and in duetime, next day, we took shipping at the St. Louis wharf on board asteamboat bound up the Missouri River.

We were six days going from St. Louis to "St. Jo."--a trip that was sodull, and sleepy, and eventless that it has left no more impression on mymemory than if its duration had been six minutes instead of that manydays. No record is left in my mind, now, concerning it, but a confusedjumble of savage-looking snags, which we deliberately walked over withone wheel or the other; and of reefs which we butted and butted, and thenretired from and climbed over in some softer place; and of sand-barswhich we roosted on occasionally, and rested, and then got out ourcrutches and sparred over.

In fact, the boat might almost as well have gone to St. Jo. by land, forshe was walking most of the time, anyhow--climbing over reefs andclambering over snags patiently and laboriously all day long. Thecaptain said she was a "bully" boat, and all she wanted was more "shear"and a bigger wheel. I thought she wanted a pair of stilts, but I had thedeep sagacity not to say so.

CHAPTER II.

The first thing we did on that glad evening that landed us at St. Josephwas to hunt up the stage-office, and pay a hundred and fifty dollarsapiece for tickets per overland coach to Carson City, Nevada.

The next morning, bright and early, we took a hasty breakfast, andhurried to the starting-place. Then an inconvenience presented itselfwhich we had not properly appreciated before, namely, that one cannotmake a heavy traveling trunk stand for twenty-five pounds of baggage--because it weighs a good deal more. But that was all we could take--twenty-five pounds each. So we had to snatch our trunks open, and make aselection in a good deal of a hurry. We put our lawful twenty-fivepounds apiece all in one valise, and shipped the trunks back to St. Louisagain. It was a sad parting, for now we had no swallow-tail coats andwhite kid gloves to wear at Pawnee receptions in the Rocky Mountains, andno stove-pipe hats nor patent-leather boots, nor anything else necessaryto make life calm and peaceful. We were reduced to a war-footing. Eachof us put on a rough, heavy suit of clothing, woolen army shirt and"stogy" boots included; and into the valise we crowded a few whiteshirts, some under-clothing and such things. My brother, the Secretary,took along about four pounds of United States statutes and six pounds ofUnabridged Dictionary; for we did not know--poor innocents--that suchthings could be bought in San Francisco on one day and received in CarsonCity the next. I was armed to the teeth with a pitiful little Smith &Wesson's seven-shooter, which carried a ball like a homoeopathic pill,and it took the whole seven to make a dose for an adult. But I thoughtit was grand. It appeared to me to be a dangerous weapon. It only hadone fault--you could not hit anything with it. One of our "conductors"practiced awhile on a cow with it, and as long as she stood still andbehaved herself she was safe; but as soon as she went to moving about,and he got to shooting at other things, she came to grief. The Secretaryhad a small-sized Colt's revolver strapped around him for protectionagainst the Indians, and to guard against accidents he carried ituncapped. Mr. George Bemis was dismally formidable. George Bemis wasour fellow-traveler.

We had never seen him before. He wore in his belt an old original"Allen" revolver, such as irreverent people called a "pepper-box." Simplydrawing the trigger back, cocked and fired the pistol. As the triggercame back, the hammer would begin to rise and the barrel to turn over,and presently down would drop the hammer, and away would speed the ball.To aim along the turning barrel and hit the thing aimed at was a featwhich was probably never done with an "Allen" in the world. But George'swas a reliable weapon, nevertheless, because, as one of the stage-driversafterward said, "If she didn't get what she went after, she would fetchsomething else." And so she did. She went after a deuce of spades nailedagainst a tree, once, and fetched a mule standing about thirty yards tothe left of it. Bemis did not want the mule; but the owner came out witha double-barreled shotgun and persuaded him to buy it, anyhow. It was acheerful weapon--the "Allen." Sometimes all its six barrels would go offat once, and then there was no safe place in all the region round about,but behind it.

We took two or three blankets for protection against frosty weather inthe mountains. In the matter of luxuries we were modest--we took nonealong but some pipes and five pounds of smoking tobacco. We had twolarge canteens to carry water in, between stations on the Plains, and wealso took with us a little shot-bag of silver coin for daily expenses inthe way of breakfasts and dinners.

By eight o'clock everything was ready, and we were on the other side ofthe river. We jumped into the stage, the driver cracked his whip, and webowled away and left "the States" behind us. It was a superb summermorning, and all the landscape was brilliant with sunshine. There was afreshness and breeziness, too, and an exhilarating sense of emancipationfrom all sorts of cares and responsibilities, that almost made us feelthat the years we had spent in the close, hot city, toiling and slaving,had been wasted and thrown away. We were spinning along through Kansas,and in the course of an hour and a half we were fairly abroad on thegreat Plains. Just here the land was rolling--a grand sweep of regularelevations and depressions as far as the eye could reach--like thestately heave and swell of the ocean's bosom after a storm. Andeverywhere were cornfields, accenting with squares of deeper green, thislimitless expanse of grassy land. But presently this sea upon dry groundwas to lose its "rolling" character and stretch away for seven hundredmiles as level as a floor!

Our coach was a great swinging and swaying stage, of the most sumptuousdescription--an imposing cradle on wheels. It was drawn by six handsomehorses, and by the side of the driver sat the "conductor," the legitimatecaptain of the craft; for it was his business to take charge and care ofthe mails, baggage, express matter, and passengers. We three were theonly passengers, this trip. We sat on the back seat, inside. About allthe rest of the coach was full of mail bags--for we had three days'delayed mails with us. Almost touching our knees, a perpendicular wallof mail matter rose up to the roof. There was a great pile of itstrapped on top of the stage, and both the fore and hind boots were full.We had twenty-seven hundred pounds of it aboard, the driver said--"alittle for Brigham, and Carson, and 'Frisco, but the heft of it for theInjuns, which is powerful troublesome 'thout they get plenty of truck toread." But as he just then got up a fearful convulsion of his countenancewhich was suggestive of a wink being swallowed by an earthquake, weguessed that his remark was intended to be facetious, and to mean that wewould unload the most of our mail matter somewhere on the Plains andleave it to the Indians, or whosoever wanted it.

We changed horses every ten miles, all day long, and fairly flew over thehard, level road. We jumped out and stretched our legs every time thecoach stopped, and so the night found us still vivacious and unfatigued.

After supper a woman got in, who lived about fifty miles further on, andwe three had to take turns at sitting outside with the driver andconductor. Apparently she was not a talkative woman. She would sitthere in the gathering twilight and fasten her steadfast eyes on amosquito rooting into her arm, and slowly she would raise her other handtill she had got his range, and then she would launch a slap at him thatwould have jolted a cow; and after that she would sit and contemplate thecorpse with tranquil satisfaction--for she never missed her mosquito; shewas a dead shot at short range. She never removed a carcase, but leftthem there for bait. I sat by this grim Sphynx and watched her killthirty or forty mosquitoes--watched her, and waited for her to saysomething, but she never did. So I finally opened the conversationmyself. I said:

"The mosquitoes are pretty bad, about here, madam."

"You bet!"

"What did I understand you to say, madam?"

"You BET!"

Then she cheered up, and faced around and said:

"Danged if I didn't begin to think you fellers was deef and dumb. I did,b'gosh. Here I've sot, and sot, and sot, a-bust'n muskeeters andwonderin' what was ailin' ye. Fust I thot you was deef and dumb, then Ithot you was sick or crazy, or suthin', and then by and by I begin toreckon you was a passel of sickly fools that couldn't think of nothing tosay. Wher'd ye come from?"

The Sphynx was a Sphynx no more! The fountains of her great deep werebroken up, and she rained the nine parts of speech forty days and fortynights, metaphorically speaking, and buried us under a desolating delugeof trivial gossip that left not a crag or pinnacle of rejoinderprojecting above the tossing waste of dislocated grammar and decomposedpronunciation!

How we suffered, suffered, suffered! She went on, hour after hour, tillI was sorry I ever opened the mosquito question and gave her a start.She never did stop again until she got to her journey's end towarddaylight; and then she stirred us up as she was leaving the stage (for wewere nodding, by that time), and said:

"Now you git out at Cottonwood, you fellers, and lay over a couple o'days, and I'll be along some time to-night, and if I can do ye any goodby edgin' in a word now and then, I'm right thar. Folks'll tell you'tI've always ben kind o' offish and partic'lar for a gal that's raised inthe woods, and I am, with the rag-tag and bob-tail, and a gal has to be,if she wants to be anything, but when people comes along which is myequals, I reckon I'm a pretty sociable heifer after all."

We resolved not to "lay by at Cottonwood."

_________________"And who's the idiot that said that!?"-anonymous idiot

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